A Medic's Life
by Omicron the IceQueen
Summary: Possible one shot, maybe not. G1 and Pre-Earth. This is a story of A junior medical officer who learns that its far from normal working in Iacon under the best surgeon in Cybertron is far from a small clinic as well as 'normal.' Look out for the twins!
1. Silence

**A Miedic's Life**

Possable one shot?

Sterile.

The whole medical bay was sparkling clean. as it could be with bodies till in stasis on most of the many berths lining the walls. It was quite now, not four hours before Iacon Medical had been almost packed with both rushing medics and injured mechs alike.

The most experience and their one juniors were paired up working on the worst of the wounded while both the younger and two new medics where essentially sorting through those warriors that could still stand. Those with minor damages where sat down in order in the wide hall just out side to wait until the most critical were cared for first.

Orders from the Chief Medical Officer, Cybertrons best surgeon and medic, were bellowed out. Ranging from demands for this or that, to instructions on how to care for another patent on the other side of the room.

The skills of all the medics, even the new juniors, had been pushed and tested that day with what seemed like an almost endless, steady stream of wounded. Three fronts had been engaged by the Decepticons, and some mechs had been flown in all the way from the southern hemisphere.

But, meticulously the critical tapered off, were stabilized and moved to recovery wards. Though one or two mechs still had the arms of Ratchet and his two assistants inside them for several more hours, those waiting were patched up and sent to their personal quarters to let their own internal repair systems do the rest.

Right now there were very few awake mechs, just the medics who weren't recharging in fact. One for each of the four recovery wards and Ratchet himself in his office, supposedly taking a quick recharge himself but the wide windows gave him a perfect view of those in the main part of medical. Since the wards were full the spillovers were under his watchful optics.

In on particular ward, where the worst cases of the day were place, a slim female walked from one berth to the next as she took her time in checking each of her charges for the night. Her movements were a little slow, but far from sloppy.

She was average size for a femmie, primarily being white and sliver with a little gray here and there. Her light colors made both the already birth red Autobots insignia stand out even more as well as the two equally red designs on her shoulders that proclaimed to Cybertron at large that she was a full fledge JMO. A junior medical officer, though not to be confused with a _new_ medic.

Classic blue optics watched a screen that showed the vitals of a warrior class Autobot at her side. Quicksilver shifted her gaze down and looking over the red and grey worrier over herself, having long ago leaned not to fully trust equipment.

The older mech proved to be fully stable and the medic moved to the next berth to repeat the process. Once done she hesitated, standing at the end of the ward and looking over all the resting bodies.

She had spent up hours inside some of these mechs, literally elbow deep and covered in all manors of fluids from energon to coolant...and she very rarely learned the names of those under her care. Every now and again she would work on the same Autobot a few times, but never met them outside of duty, and she had tried to fined the few she had gotten along with.

Quicksilver's optics dimmed and flashed as she 'woke up' from the trance of familiarity and looked down. Just now realizing she hadn't had a chance to clean more than her hands, and with a day like it had been. She wasn't her normal colors, but stained pink and blue on her front.

Well, it really wasn't such a big surprise, the medic hadn't had any chance to clean up. By the time this quite time had come she was already in a routine and just didn't think of it. Ratchet himself probable was only partly cleaned up if at all.

Quicksilver scanned over her ward again and a blinking light drew her attention. Someone was out of stasis on the other side of the room. At once the medic came, glancing at a small scream of the readout at the foot of the berth before coming up abreast with the golden warrior's broad shoulders.

The medic smiled softly at the dazed but focusing ice blue optics as she checked the patches on the mech's chest. Parts of his armor, including his chest plat were resting in the care of one of the engineers to be reformed and returned the fallowing day.

A yellow hand reached up and grabbed Quicksilver's arm, moving far faster than is should for someone who shouldn't be even half out of recharge.

"Sideswipe," the mech said, coming awake rapidly.

"What...?" Quicksilver blinked, her optics widened and she put a hand firmly on the warrior's shoulder, keeping her palm away from anything exposed. "Don't you dare think of getting up Autobot, you'll break the patches on your fuel lines. We had a heard enough time getting them on in the first place."

The warrior frowned, in doing so altering the hansom charm of his face that Quicksilver, and a few others had noted before. "Where's Sideswipe?" He asked, though thankfully staying down.

"Who's Sideswipe?" The medic asked and glanced up and around even though she didn't know the names that went with the mechs here.

"My brother." The warrior let out a soft hiss of air though his intakes, "Said he'd come..."

"I'll see if he's outside," Quicksilver said, smiling down at the mech, "You stay still though."

The golden warrior eyed her, making sure she wasn't just saying so before his face smoothed out into a calm expression and he let her arm go, letting it cluck loudly back down. Almost at once the medic moved his arm back into place beside the mech's body so not to be hanging over the edge of the berth. She checked his read outs once more before moving away.

The mech tilted his crested head and watched Quicksilver walk down to the other end of the ward and step into the brighter lights of the main section of medical. The door slid shut behind her, blocking his view.

At once Ratchet looked up from checking on someone, "What's wrong?" He demanded, his curt almost snappish manor mostly from a lack of energon, recharge and the long day.

"Nothing critical sir," Quicksilver said coming over, had there been she would have triggered an alarm for the other medics to come running.

"Than what the slag are you doing here?" Ratchet scowled as he stood up right and looked down at his assistant.

"One of the warriors woke up, he wants to know where his brother, Sideswipe is." Quicksilver reported, "I thought I could look up where he is, that is if you don't mind sir."

Ratchet paused and his expression changed a little, no longer hard. He let out a hiss of air, similar to a sigh, "Don't bother, I know where Sunstreaker's other half is. Come on." The head medic motioned for the junior to fallow, witch she did.

"You do?"

"These two both do this when they're not slagged at the same time." Ratchet nodded as he opened the main doors that led to the 'lobby' of the medical center. There, leaning with his back against the hallway wall was another warrior.

As silver poked her head around the doorframe she didn't fail to notice this Autobot was in the same place the less critical had been parked earlier. For an instant she worried someone had done a greavus over sight but if faded as Ratchet cleared his voice box.

Ice blue optics looked up, the same shade as the golden warrior...Sunstreaker? The mech that was hurriedly standing up did have a similarity in his face and shell type that suggested the same creator. This was probable Sideswipe, he had the same broad chest and shoulders and the heavy armor and a powerful shell to compensate for the extra weight of the armor. Yet as he moved it wasn't sluggish but alarmingly fast for a bot his size.

The reason hit Quicksilver and she scolded herself for taking so long, she must really be in need of energon herself. Both this Sideswipe and his brother were front line warriors, built to take a heavier beating and keep on fighting or defending.

Right now Sideswipe was glancing between her and Ratchet, his own hansom face marred by worry, "Sunny?" he asked.

Ratchet looked the taller warrior up and down, unable to stop the automatic reaction of checking mechs for damage. He turned to look at his junior and Quicksilver stood up straight, "You,"

"Yes sir?"

"He's your responsibility," Ratchet pointed a finger at the shorter medic's nose, "I don't want to hear a peep out of your ward until I say so, you understand?"

"Yes sir." Quicksilver nodded.

"Good, now scram the both of you." Ratchet growled before stalking back to black and white mech he was working on earlier.

Quicksilver smiled at Sideswipe and found the returning grin quite charming. "Fallow me."

"Yes ma'am," The warrior whispered and with out hesitation fallowed a few steps behind the shorter medic as she lead him back to her ward. Once in he was already homing onto his other half before Quicksilver could even point the way.

The medic paused before fallowing, "He's to remain still." She warned as she passed the two on her way to the other side of the ward where a desk was on the far wall. Quicksilver knew she was going to be here for a long time, and if she couldn't recharge than she might as well get some energon. If there was any in the desk that it.

"Half a cube." The medic muttered a few minutes later, eyeing the half full cube and the pink, liquid energy inside it. Well it was better than nothing, Quicksilver leaned back in the fixed chair and started sipping. She glanced up to make sure everything was in order, Sideswipe was leaning on his brother's berth and talking to him in soft tones.

The medic smiled and reached for several black data pads and started on due repots from the day, she had to look up names of those she worked on but other than that the next megacycle went by in relative silence.

Quicksilver started as two black hands gripped the other side of her desk and Sideswipe leaned on it.

"Sorry," The warrior grinned, "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," The medic smiled up at him, "Can I help you with something?" She quirked an optic ridge up.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Sideswipe said and shifted so he was half leaning over the desk, his forearms crossed on its top, "I know the other medic said my internal repair system could handle it but..." He made a face of discomfort, "My shoulder is _really_ bugging me...could you look at it please?" Sideswipe flashed a rather charming smile.

Quicksilver, seeing no reason not to stood up and motioned for the warrior to come around the desk, "You're going to have to sit down, not really any berths at the moment."

"Thanks!" Sideswipe beamed at her as he darted around the desk and sat down in the fixed chair. He hand to move his longer legs just so, but other than that he didn't mind the slightly too small seat. But it did put his shoulders at the medic's level for easy reach.

"Witch one?" Quicksilver asked.

"This one, right here," Sideswipe shrugged his right shoulder and reached up to pat the spot.

Slim fingers started at once, first finding what was wrong and than fixing it. The pressure was a little off here and there but mostly it was just too tight. Working at the cables in his neck first she worked her way down into the shoulder joint proper.

Sideswipe's optics had dimmed and the warrior smiled, leaning his head to his left and forward to expose his neck more. It felt surprisingly nice, it was the equitant of a neck massage.

Quicksilver paused and her own optics flashed in a blink when the warrior started a low growling purr from somewhere in his chest. She glanced around, unused to that kind of response.

"Don't stop," Sideswipe said, his optics powering up again as he leaned back into the medic's hands but he didn't stopping his purr.

The medic hesitated for a moment, but before the warrior stopped purring she started on his neck again and repeated what she did, but this time on his left side. Honestly, she really didn't mind, and it was a nice break from the quite.


	2. Torture

**A Medic's Life**

Torture.

Quicksilver couldn't think of any better word to describe what was going on.

She let of a frustrated hiss of air in a type of sigh before putting her hands on hip struts. The JMO wondered if Ratchet was punishing her or simply, finely, realized he did not have to this task himself any more.

The perks of being the Chief Medical Officer of Iacon, and the bane of the two junior officers under Ratchet's command and teaching. After all they stayed at their posts for the want and need to learn not only more, but from one of the best on Cybertron.

How ever, right now Quicksilver was slightly annoyed. She could feel the block in her head stir but she firmly clamped down on her emotions. No one knew about the block and she intended to keep it that way.

"Officer Red Alert," The medic said with what seemed like, to the other senor officers, an infinite supply of patience when dealing with junior security officer. "As it was said in the two letters sent to you, your scheduled physical is today."

She quirked an optic ridge, at the same time noticed that she and other junior officer was focus of attention of senor members of the command center. Including the black and white mech she'd seen Ratchet working on that night after that harrowing day and night several weeks past. The mech was one of the few that Quicksilver knew in new city outside the medical center. Knew of was more like it.

The tactician was famous. In both to the warrior class mechs and to the medic who either thanked him for saving so many or cursing Prowl for giving them so much work.

With out pausing Quicksilver continued, her voice calm and firm, "In fact, that appointment was three megacycles ago. Your lack of punctuality has set the schedule off for not only other officers but for every other mech that was scheduled for today."

Without looking away from his computer screen Red Alert repeated what he had said to the medic twice before, "There are too many security personal out of commission, it would be unwise to leave. Iacon's security is top priority."

Quicksilver gave the barest of twitches and cycled air into her system to both cool her shell and to give her a moment to help keep her calm. "If you truly believe that officer Red Alert, you should have forward a message to me saying you could not make it today."

"I did."

"I received no such message." The femmie crossed her arms, her optics never leaving the back of Red Alert's head in a steady gaze. Funny how he had not once looked up from his monitors and met her optics.

"I sent it to medical ward six," Was the brisk replay.

Quicksilver's optics narrowed slightly, partly in a rising emotion that triggered her block and sent a spike of pain threw her mind. Long years of living with the pain built of a tolerance and she ignored the pain. When she spoke her voice was still calm and steady, as if she was a tolerant creator talking to her wayward and misbehaving creation.

"First Aid is in charge of medical ward six, I supervise wards five, two and three. Sending a message intended for me to a search and rescue medic who is out of the medical center most of the time is foolish at best."

What ever response Red Alert might have said, was nipped at the bud before it could even properly form in his voice box. The reason being the shadow that fell over his desk, the sharp out line was instantly recognized. The junior officer nearly fell out of his post in his rush to stand and salute the taller mech.

Prowl's armored shell seemed even bigger as he took the last step up beside the slim, light colored medic. His door wings help up high so almost half of them could be seen over and around his shoulders. The red chevron similar but different than Ratchet's, it was almost sharper looking. His expression was both calm and disapproving at the same time.

"Red Alert," Prowl looked down, "Showing such disregard and disrespect to the mechs that very well may save your spark some days is ill advised." He finally outwardly frowned and his blue optics seem to harden, "I am disappointed in you."

"Sir--"

"I am not finished." Prowl pinned the junior officer with stare and slight narrowing of optics, "You must understand that the medics are not here for our convince. Although you two are both junior officers, Miss Quicksilver here has medical rank over you, and the disregard you have shown not only her but the chief medical officer Ratchet shall be dealt with."

Quicksilver had politely stepped aside for the tactician and watched quietly. Inwardly she marveled at the taller black and white mech, he projected his authority silently but nearly as forcefully as Ratchet could with his famous arm and aim.

It was interesting to watch, when you were not the focused of _his_ attention that is.

The femmie made a mental note to send a thank you letter or something similar. She really did not want to pull medical rank, even if she was in her rights to and knew Ratchet would not hesitate. In fact Ratchet would have probably just marched in, grabbed the junior officer and openly dare everyone to try and stop him.

Quicksilver effectively repressed a smile, returning her full attention to Prowl just as the mech turned to face her.

"Can Red Alert be seen today?" he ask, his cold disapproval smoothing to politeness as he met the medic's eyes. He noted the pleasant change that she held his gaze, most junior officers looked away or down being intimidated.

"There is a slight possibility, he will have to wait until everyone else is seen to." Quicksilver said, equally polite. The truth was she like it, too much time with Ratchet. "If he can not be seen than he will either come back tomorrow and wait or go to the back of the line and be seen by Ratchet after all the other officers have been seen to."

Prowl nodded, "Very well. Please escort Red Alert down to the medical center." He paused and added, "And please inform Ratchet that I will have to reschedule my fallow up. Prime has called a meeting that conflicts with my appointment."

"I am to see you officer," Quicksilver said after recalling the list given to her, "I can arrange for you to meet Highstrung tomorrow..."

"Good," Prowl inclined his head to her, "Thank you."

"You're welcome officer." Quicksilver smiled before turning on her heal, clasped her hands behind her back and paced out of the command center, knowing she had been dismissed. She heard the Red Alert scramble after her, most likely spurred on by a look from Prowl.

"Lets get this over with," Red Alert said a little bit later still fallowing the light colored medic. He started to fallow her out of the main part of the center to the ward she was going to.

Quicksilver stopped and turned, hands on hip struts again and she looked Red Alert in the optics. She pointed to the few waiting chairs, "Sit." Was the command and imitation of Ratchet before she left to said mech's open office and give a verbal report he had said he wanted. She exited a few minutes later with him at the same time as a primarily red bot walked in.

"Silver," Ratchet said as he motioned the mech to ward three, "Take care of Blaster."

"Yes sir."

Ratchet pinned Red Alert with a glare.


	3. Peace

**A Medic's Life**

Peace.

The three dimensional images of the glittering, graceful Towers were almost as wonderful as the real thing. Blue optics dimmed partly and Quicksilver over lapped what she was staring at with the memories she had of her home.

The spiraling, purple and aqua colored High Charity Tower.

Quicksilver hissed air in a sigh and propped her chin in one hand, the elbow joint on the small table she'd requested. She wished, not for the first time, that the holo-room had it's sound fixed.

Why was she here anyways? Not here in Iacon, but here in the holo-room.

Morning the lose of a home that may or may not survive Cybertron's escalating civil war…Morning the possible lose of her creator. Yes, she did miss the old medic, despite what he had done when making her. The old mech would have preferred his last creation to stay in the Tower, with him, not join the Autobots to further her skills as a medic.

Block or no, she wouldn't have stayed one way or another.

The loose peace of the holographic illusion was suddenly broken as the door to the real outside opened.

Quicksilver started, optics coming online as she sat up and turned to face the intruder. At the same time giving herself a mental slap for forgetting to either lock the door or flag it to tell others that the holo-room was occupied.

The tall, lean mech in the door was looked startled too, clearly not expecting anyone to be here. The gaze of the blue and white Autobot turned puzzled as he took in the patio like design of the foreground hologram and the Towers in the background.

"May I help you?" Quicksilver asked, lowering her hand.

"High Charity correct?" A rich, cultured and smooth voice asked after identifying the positions of the background Towers.

Instantly Quicksilver recognized the accent of a fellow 'Tower Dweller.' "Yes," yes nodded, "That is very good."

The mech smiled, "I came to that Tower a few times. Is it your native one?"

The medic nodded, "Yes, home and college. Which Tower is your native?"

"The Reflecting Penance," He replayed, "May I come in?"

Quicksilver motioned to the far side where a few more chairs were visible near the door, "By all means. I must admit I did not expect of fined some one from the Towers here in Iacon."

"Neither did I," The mech smiled as he lifted a chair and set it down at the small table, aiming it so he could sit facing the background view of the hologram like the medic. "My name is Mirage, lady of High Charity." He extended a hand.

"Quicksilver," The femmie smiled and put her hand in the mech's offered one. How easy it was to slip back into the old ways of 'high culture.' "It is a pleasure to meet you Mirage of Reflecting Penance."

She doubted she was the only one who forgotten how humorous the old titles were. Both Quicksilver and Mirage smiled and either chuckled or giggled softly.

They talked of the Towers, of the lives they knew there. Condolences were said as well as a hope that their native homes would survive to shin after the civil war. They talked of Iacon, of the medical center, of matters going on in and out of the golden capital city.

For one, it was nice to talk to someone who knew how to be properly civil, if a tad rusty but so was Mirage. It was also nice for Quicksilver to talk to someone that was neither another medic nor reassuring a patent that he was going to be alright.

It was a very pleasant few megacycles indeed.

When Quicksilver's reserved time for the holo-room ended and she retrieved her data crystal. The medic was delighted and honored when Mirage proved to be even more of a gentleman and offered to escort her to her next designation.

Organic or mechanical, femmies did like attention.

The facts that Mirage was quite hansom and ever so polite were a bonus. Especially the former.

So Quicksilver slipped her hand onto the one offered to her and let Mirage formally escort her to a nice little place for energon. She knew full well that had she been alone she would have gotten some on the way to her recharge birth instead.


	4. Minibots part1

**A Medic's Life**

Minibots

Highly amusing they were, they were also highly annoying to one Chief Medical Officer of Iacon. Thus, for that reason Quicksilver found all of them in her wards for their check ups. They had apparently come into the main ward, the heart of Ratchet's undisputed territory, in groups. Almost at the same time too boot.

With his red hands already full with a Wrecker Autobot that had soaking up most of what patience he had that day, the surgeon had yelled at the shorter mechs. "In there! Beat it!"

All the while the young blue runner chatted away, pretty oblivious to the affect he was having on Ratchet.

The Minibots had fled into the (relatively) safety of Ward Five. The few that had remembered Quicksilver, even if she didn't remember any of them but Gears, and knew she was one of the better medics.

'Better' as in mild tempered, even more so when in comparison to Ratchet. As well as the fact that she seem to like them.

Gears had professed his love for the medic many times over when she not only check him first but had looked and tinkered every spot the mech insisted was causing trouble. She was humoring him yeas but that was the nice part. No one had done that for Gears in some time!

"Honestly 'Silver," The blue and red Minibot said leaning back shamelessly into the medic's hands, "You have the best touch in Iacon."

"Stop trying to flirt with da femmie and usin' all our time Gears!" a yellow/tan and green Minibot yelled from a few births down. He was biggest and heaviest of the group.

"Ah, shut ya slag-trap Brawn!" Gears twisted his upper body, unable to turn a neck since he didn't have one. His tone changing from charming (at least his best attempt of that charm he could do) to the natural half aggressive, half pure attitude that was so common for Minibots. His optics unfocused as a panel on his arm was replaced. The Minibot franticly thought of another possible thing wrong with him, Gears opened him other but the medic had already picked up her data pad and looked at the next name on her list.

"Bumblebee?" Quicksilver read and looked up.

"Right here!" one of the smallest Minibots waved and trotted over to the birth Gears was sliding off, sulking as he did so. Bumblebee gave the light colored medic once of the broadest and friendliest smiles she'd ever seen. The Minibot's brightly yellow colored paint job seemed to only enhance the mech's good mood and personality.

Quicksilver smiled in return, suddenly feeling better, "Hop on up," she said and reached for her hand held scanner.

Bumblebee jumped up onto the birth and twisted around so the medic had access to his back. The special operations agent had already seen Quicksilver start on Gears like that and wanted to be as good as a patient as possible. "Oh by the way I wanted to say thank you," he glanced over his shoulder.

Quicksilver's optics flashed and she looked back, scanner in hand, "For what?"

"You put my leg back together," Bumblebee explained and pointed at his right leg.

The medic considered that, trying to remember and came up with a frazzled memory of working on a scorched Minibot with Ratchet bellowing at her back.

_Ah_...that had been a fun evening.

Quicksilver waved it off, "It's nothing," she smiled, "Head forward."

"It's not nothing," Bumblebee said, but complied.

"I'm a medic," Quicksilver said starting the process of scanning the Minibot. After a few minutes she rocked back on her heels and her optics flashed. "Well, I must admit I have never seen a mech so well maintained, especially in your line of work."

"Thanks!"

At once the other Minibots turned on Gears and another mech, the group teasing being met with full on attitude from the receivers.

Quicksilver patted Bumblebee's shoulder to let him know he could get down and checked her list again. Normally one would go be scheduled appointment but since Ratchet had dumped all these mechs in her lap so to say, it was a first come first serve, or who ever signed up first.

"Powerglide?"

"Right here ma'am!"

Bumblebee was replaced with a red and black colored Minibot. The wings and jets gave him away as a flier.

Quicksilver tapped him on the back, "Face me,"

"You got it," Powerglide lifted his legs and switched sides on the birth, now facing the medic. He held his arms up and out to the sides without being asked, use to being a little different than his Minibot brethren. Being a flier slash glider his problem arrears weren't the same. He was trying to pay attention to the vaulting, collective conversation that was bouncing from one subject to another as the Minibots had their first real chance to catch up with each other in who knew how long. The flier pitched in here and there between doing as he was asked.

The whole group was quite a mix of personalities, but they seemed to be friends non the less. Most likely they worked in the same section.

"Okay, that should do you just fine." Quicksilver reactivated Powerglide's sensory net in his wings and closed the panel she had her hands in. "If there's any more problems come back and see me right away."

"Will do ma'am," The Minibot plane gave a thumbs up, "And thanks, that was bugging me."

The medic smiled and put her tools away. Look at the list, oh she knew this one...kind of. "Brawn?"

"-so remember that Cliffjumper-Coming." The mech cut himself off at hearing his name called by the only femmie in the room. He traded places with Powerglide, who prompted launched into it with this Cliffjumper about the same subject.

Brawn noted that, had Ratchet been here he would have kicked out the cleared Autobots already. Not let them chat away. But he could feel the amusement and passive acceptance from this new medic.

New to Brawn, he never saw her before. But than she was in these back wards so that might be the reason...

"Back to me."

Brawn complied. He glanced over his shoulder and tried to watch her remove his dorsal plat, "Need some help?"

"No, head forward," Quicksilver reached out with her free hand and turned the Minibot's head around.

"How long have you been in Iacon?" Brawn asked, letting his head be turned.

The medic paused as the portable scanner humming in her hands, she considered the question, "Almost a full stellar cycle I believe." She returned her attention to the scanner, reading the report. "Hmm...lay down, front down, please. You've been putting quite a bit of stress on your support structure. I want a good look at it."

She stepped back, setting the scanner aside only to pick up anther one as Brawn shifted. Face down he propped himself up partly with his arms and glanced to see if that was alright.

"You mechs are all nuts and bolts!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Come on, we're in medical--"

"Yeah I know, he'll get fast attention."

Brawn saw the light frown on Quicksilver's face and heaved himself up to face the other, "Shut your slag wholes!" he growled out, "There's a _lady_ here and it's a _medical ward_ for Primus' sake!"

The brewing fight died down as it became clear Brawn would turn on both sides.

"Thank you," Quicksilver said softly as the big Minibot settled down only after he was sure the kid Cliffjumper had subsided and hopped back up on his birth.

Brawn rumbled his alternet mode's engine somewhere in his chest in replay, still keeping an eye on his fellows. The mech sat back up and slid off the birth twenty minutes later, rotating his tuned up, left shoulder, "Thank you ma'am."

Quicksilver smiled as she once again put everything away and checked her list. The need for a clean work place had been drilled into her long before she met Ratchet and his _spotless_ wards.

Many years of training kept her from making even the slightest face of uncertainly at the next name.

"Cliffjumper?"

"Coming."

The red Minibot looked like Bumblebee but didn't at the same time. Where as his near double was bight in both personality and paint job, this one had dark red with grey highlights; as well as the fact it only took one look to see the normal Minibot attitude seemed to be tripled in this one.

It wasn't aimed at Quicksilver though. In fact, as Chiffjumper pulled himself up on the birth he looked away and mudded a, "Sorry about that."

The next Minibot turned out to be almost as bad as Gears. But at least all of Huffer's complaints were valid. It was as Quicksilver was carefully, _carefully_ using a slim tool in the exposed wires of Huff's palm to extract slivers some kind of metal shavings he picked up working that it happened.

The door swished open and three more Minibots walked in. It wasn't their appearance but what the lead one said...shouted.

"POW! Wow! You're all WHAM! Here!"

For the first time in well over five hundred years, Quicksilver not only flinched, but _jumped_.

Huffer screamed and the other Minibots froze and stared.

Before the pained scream finished Quicksilver's medical reflexes kicked in. She grabbed Huffer's forearm with one hand and disengaged the inside of the armor of his forearm and plunged her fingers into the wires, cords and support structure. The tips of her fingers found one of the two things she wanted, though with out the specific knowledge of Huffer's inner workings she didn't know which one she had first until the energon flow cut off. A minute later she had the nerves from his elbow joint down were turned off completely.

Huffer panted slightly, sucking air in his system to cool the spike of heat. He thanked Primus bellow for the medic's near instant reaction as well as his now numb arm.

Quicksilver's hands clenched in to fists after she instructed Huffer to lay down on his back and remain still until she could come back to him in a moment. She was polite as ever to him, but the Minibot saw the sharpening of her optics a split second before her head turned and pinned the obverse red tank with the first glare anyone in Iacon had seen from her.

The look was eerily a slight echo of Ratchet's famous death promising one. Strangely, they could see _pain_ flick across her face as the medic lift a hand to the side of her head.

"You."

The new comers all stood at attention.

"_Sit._"

Quicksilver pointed at the other end of the ward where there were plenty of births. The Minibots scrambled over there as the medic walked slowly out the same door they can in. Multiple pairs of optics watched her go, and just before the door swished closed they saw Ratchet appear in the wide hall and pause, seeing something the others couldn't.

The block nearly made the femmie collapse as she aimed for Ratchet's office as he instructed before investigating for himself what had happened. Yet Quicksilver made it into the chair she sat in many times across from Ratchet's own chair, in meeting and even further back at her first interview.

The light colored medic put her head on the desk and wrapped her arms around it. She tried her best to calm down, to repress or better get over her near paralyzing anger and the pain it caused thanks the block in her head.

Quicksilver did something she hadn't done since the first time she told her maker she wanted to further her medical education out side the towers. She whimpered...


	5. Soundproof

**A Medic's Life**

Soundproof.

The entire office was shielded against the sounds of the outside world. It left the single occupant of the small, darkened room to rest in peace. The pale colored femmie sat in front of the desk that belonged to Ratchet.

Normally, any of the Chief Medical Officer's juniors would be very leery of coming into the heart of Ratchet's territory. They would down right be vibrating in their shells when sitting across from him in his desk.

They would not be caught dead in recharge.

Yet this wasn't a normal case of every day routine.

Quicksilver cycled air into her systems, her optics shut down with head on forearm on the edge of the desk. Her shell was going to protest quite a bit later on but for right not the blissful, numb recharge was just to perfect to bother to wake up.

Besides, Ratchet himself had told her to rest in his office as he dealt with the matters before they would talk.

Perhaps he hadn't meant for Quicksilver to, essentially, fall asleep, but that was side affect of her block after a rather nasty attack. It could be over ridden but not easily.

Though Ratchet was not aware of the block, he knew that something was wrong with his junior officer. Or it was a possibility that he might have a general idea, for this just couldn't be the first time someone with a block had come under his care.

The femmie remanded still, thankfully oblivious to the world outside the office and her left hand dangled down. She didn't stir or jar awake when the door opened, or even with red hands gently righter her in the seat.

Ratchet frowned, having chewed out all the Minibots, kicked out those that were done and royally terrified one red mini-tank. He finished Blurr and kicked that kid out as well after calling First Aid and Highstrung in to take care of the remaining Minibots.

Behind him Prowl stood quality. The other senor officer had come for his own check up. Upon seeing Ratchet's controlled chaos had inserted himself into it to get order back as well as to find out what had happened.

Ratchet had been annoyed at that, but Prowl didn't go away.

"Is she alright?" the black and white asked, risking a step farther into the office.

"Mmm." Ratchet 'replied' as he stopped his scan and cupped Quicksilver's face with one hand, the other reaching around to the back.

At first this action puzzled Prowl, he'd never seen Ratchet give open affection like this. His brand of 'affection' meant the louder he yelled at you the more he tended to care.

"Something's wrong." The head medic said, shifting the hand not holding his junior's face to the side of her head, fingers spread, "I'm picking up something that's...not right." Ratchet's frown turned to a brief scowl. He didn't like it when something was Not Right with both his charges as well has his medical team that he hadn't known about.

Prowl's puzzlement vanished with understanding. "What is it?" Ratchet hadn't been showing affection, Prowl had forgotten that the medic's hands were nearly hipper sensitive in order to scan passively with out opening the shell or lugging around a portable scanner.

"Mmm." Ratchet repeated his earlier sound and stood, his optics flicked over at the other officer, "Make yourself useful, take her to the neural scanner in room six, I need to get some things." He moved to trade places with Prowl but paused and looked him in the optics and added, "Be careful 'Silver is much lighter that she looks, no armor or alternate mode."

Prowl nodded as he stepped up to the femmie. He knew most of the femmies were lighter than their mech counter parts, but when he picked up the light colored medic he noticed that Ratchet was right.

The tactical part of Prowl made a note of this, he also took Quicksilver off his mental list of possible field medics. He carried her to the correct room with thanks to the writing that proclaimed which doors were what.

Ratchet appeared in the room as Prowl set the smaller medic down on the only examination table. The red and white mech set his tools down on a counter lining the back wall and started booting up an arm-like scanner that rested on the side wall across from Prowl.

It didn't look very friendly.

Even Prowl was wary of it and the tactician eyed it when it twitched slightly with power.

* * *

Queen's notes: So, not as long as my normal 1,000 at least words for a chapter but this is what I did and couldn't find a way to keep going with out sounding bad in my head.

Hehehehe, Ratchet's gonna have _A Talk_ with poor 'Silver. XD!

Beware of Ratchet's big scarry scanner.


	6. Bliss

**A Medic's Life**

Bliss.

There really wasn't any other way to describe the feeling.

Quicksilver debated if she should move, or stay where she was. Could she both not move and get closer to that broad, smooth, highly polished and such a beautiful red chest plate.

Wait.

Wasn't it blue...?

Or...

Memories seemed to jam and twist together in a confusing mix, making the femmie wince as she sat up with a hand to the side of her head. Blue optics activated and the sight of the room she was in currently only further confused her more.

A red hand and a familiar energy signature preceded the voice, "Take it easy, give it a click to reset."

"Reset?" Why would Quicksilver have to reset? _What_ was resetting in her?

Something went _snap_ and _click_ in the femmie's head and with abrupt understanding. Her mental block was what had reset, now that she was completely calm. What ever had triggered the block was a now a corrupted memory file, something else the block did...

"How's your head?" Ratchet asked moving to put his hand against the other side of his junior's head to run a passive scan, "Any pain?"

"No..." Quicksilver frowned at the older mech wondering why he'd ask about any pain in her...head... The light colored femmie snapped her head up and gave Ratchet such a look that was similar to that a turbo-fox would get when caught in the preverbal energon bath. Though in this case it wasn't getting caught with something nice, but the opposite.

Ratchet nodded, "I know about your block." He tapped the femmie's head and leaned back, "But I want to know why you have it."

Quicksilver dimmed her optics and looked away. She had carefully not mention it and had tried so hard to not to have an episode.

"'Silver," the white and red mech reached over and grasped the smaller white hand. Her optics looked back up at his after a moment, "I know that kind of block, what its purpose is." Ratchet cycled air in and out of his chest, "I know its designed to case pain, though this module isn't as strong as most."

"It is strong enough." Quicksilver said softly.

"I can only imagine, considering where it is it wouldn't need to be that strong." Ratchet agreed, "Even though you have only been here a stellar cycle I know that you are not the kind of mech to want that kind of pain."

The younger medic shook her head in a negative manor.

"Tell me." It wasn't an order or a question.

"It..." Quicksilver's optics shift away and then back slowly, "It blocks all negative emotions and...well," She clasped one hand over the opposite arm, "The pain intensity is reflected buy the intensity of the emotion."

Ratchet nodded in under standing, "Yes." He looked his junior up and down, saying his next words gentler then normal. Ratchet could be and normally was rather blunt and thorny, but he was far from curl, "Who did this to you?"

"My creator."

Of all the things that could have been given for possible reasons...Ratchet had not expected that. His optics widened in shock before narrowing to near slits of dark sapphire in contained fury as those two words and the meaning behind them. Carefully, with effort the mech cycled air to cool his system and calmed down as he looked at the femmie who was looking back at him.

Quicksilver was watching him passively, in that near limitless calm that Ratchet now understood. He had wondered a few times how his junior could put up with the most annoying of mech, she _had_ to be. The older medic didn't know, nor wanted to know how long it took the femmie to learn how to repress emotions that were natural.

"It is okay."

Ratchet refocused on Quicksilver, "No," he said firmly, "It's not okay."

"He did it to-" she started to say but was cut off by a hand over her mouth and her optics flashed in a blink.

"It. Is. Not. Okay." Ratchet repeated, "No matter what pathetic excuse that mech that made came up with, its against Cybertronian moral laws in the creation of new sparks to do what he did to you."

Quicksilver's free hand twitched, the older mech dropped his hand to grasp it, "I know." She said and looked away, "I know what he did was wrong, but the way he made me I can not be agree at him."

"And you can't report him I'm guessing." Ratch leaned back again and crossed his arms under his chest. He let out a soft whistling sound in an equivalent of a sigh when the femmie nodded. "I thought so, slagging Tower drawler..."

"I am from the Towers," Quicksilver said quietly.

"I'm not mad at you," Ratchet reached out again to tip the silver colored chin up to make Quicksilver look him, "Remember that, you are the victim here weather or not you can understand that with that thing in your head."

"Now," The older mech stepped back, "About that block..."

"It can't be taken out," Quicksilver smiled a humorless smile. "I have seen detailed scans of it before leaving to come here. If it is removed it will cause immense cerebral and nerve damage."

"You're on leave for now." Ratchet said, "I'm bringing a few things to the attention of Optimus Prime."

"Me." The femmie looked away.

"Only partly," The older medic motioned for his junior to get down off the birth, "You can find the leave time on your computer, but I want you alert and stable when you're back." He gave a stern glare that was mostly for show.

"Yes sir."

* * *

Queen's note: Okay this is a tad shorter than what I like...by fifty words XD! Anyways, hope the block was explaned a little bit for you guys. Someone sujested I do that 28 meme thiny on 'Silver....O,o think I sould? Sounds fun...


	7. Time

**A Medic's Life**

Time.

It was...strange how it worked. When you're up to you elbow joints in some warrior's torso it could drag on for an eternity. Then flash by when you move from one patent to the next.

Right now, it was somehow doing both.

Even seeing her home tower in the holographic room didn't have the same attraction. That might be from the lack of company from that Mirage mech.

Interesting name that was...

Quicksilver entertained herself for a little big by trying to come up with a reason why the mech had that name. Then she moved to the other few mechs she knew and why they had their names. She briefly wondered about her own as well until she remembered the incident that happened when she was a protoform.

_That_ at least was still funny.

The femmie lifted her right hand and stared at it. After making sure no one was around she dimmed her optics and watched her hand start to almost melt into a flexible, semi-liquid metal that still held it's hand like shape...

"Hey!"

Quicksilver never reformed faster as she yanked her hand down and pushed it into her lap before whipping her head around.

"Sorry," a wide friendly grin was offered as the towering (no pun intended) red warrior almost sauntered over, "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It is alright..." The medic said, and at the same time tried to come up with the names for the two that were pulling up chairs next to hers. "Please, join me." She said dryly.

"We were going anyways." The golden-yellow and black mech said flashing a smirk that did and didn't fit him somehow.

"So you enjoy watching Iacon at night as well?" Quicksilver hid her discomfort well, but did look from one warrior to the next that sat on either side of her. The golden one twisting the chair around to sit in it backwards with his arms folded over the back rest. The red one sat normally but some how lounged.

"Yeah," the red one nodded, Primus what was his name? She knew it didn't she? "We're shipping out at any time now. Figured we'd get one last good look at home before that happens."

"So you come up here."

"Heard it was a prime view, one of the best."

"Hmm," Quicksilver point a slim finger, "Conmen miscomputation, that building over there does not look it but it, in my opinion, will give you the best view of most of the city." Her tone was still a little dry and it was hard to tell if she was truly telling the truth or just trying to get rid of them.

"I think I like the view right here." The golden one said, not having looked away from essentially looking the medic over.

"Subtle." This time Quicksilver's tone was complete flat. "As beautiful as you both are," She stood gracefully and tapped one of the golden warrior's vents that framed his head, "The only memories I have clearly of meeting you is when I was working in your insides that were not so pretty at the time."

She didn't want to be reminded just yet of that kind of thing.

The two sets of ice blue optics watched the medic as she walked away.

"...Nice one bro." The red one, Sideswipe said and reached out to hit his twin with a fist.

Sunstreaker dodge and swung back, "What?"

"She's nice though." Sideswipe said suddenly as if forgetting the mock punches, looking at the entrance that the while and silver femmie had left by.

"No armor though," Sunstreaker commented moving so he was lounging back in his seat.

"She's a medic, they don't have much."

"Doesn't even have an alternate mode."

"Still nice."

"Yeah, still nice. Good pick."

Sideswipe stood up and grinned, "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your head." The golden twin stood up.

"As if you have a good sense when it comes to femmies."

"What are-"

"Remember Moonrunner?"

"...Yeah."

"And Hotshot?"

"...Anyone could have made that mistake."

"Riiiiiiight," Sideswipe turned away and with long strides made his way to the roof entrance, "Come on, Blaster said Quicksilver is off for the deca-cycle."

Sunstreaker stood up and caught up with his twin. The two font line warriors walked side by side and at the last minute side stepped just enough to not run over. Sunstreaker wrapped one arm around a rather startled medic.

"You know we didn't get a chance to say thank you." He said.

"Yeah," Sideswipe flashed one of the more charming smiles in his arsenal, "You helped save us."

"I am a medic." Quicksilver said, warping one of her hands over the gold one holding her side. It was at the very least twice as big as hers, nothing new there, and would not remove itself off her person or be removed. "It is apart of my function to help and repair."

"Sure, but we want to say thank you." Sideswipe was still smiling as he brushed a little closer. Sunstreaker how ever pulled the femmie with him as he turned a corner and started to head out to street level.

"Umm...you are welcome...?"

"Not like that, we're going to take you to get some energon."

"You really do not have to do so..." Quicksilver again tried to get free but had a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to have much choice in the matter this time. "It is unnecessary."

"But we want to," Sideswipe and Sunstreaker said.

"Oh, umm... alright..."


	8. Lost

**A Medic's Life**

Lost.

That hadn't happened since the first few days of arriving in Iacon.

Quicksilver glanced around, she had never been here before. When she tried to compare her surroundings to her memories of maps she'd seen once, the medic couldn't come up with anything. It was mildly conserning but not overly so since Quicksilver was still in the inner city she knew.

"'Silver?"

The femmie turned around at the familiar voice and brightened, "First Aid!"

The other medic smiled in his own way, "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I...got turned around." She smiled with a soft hum of amusement, "What are you doing down here?"

First Aid chuckled, "I live down here with my gestil mates. We have our own apartments, would you like to meet them?"

Quicksilver considered that, she'd only met Hotspot in passing once and her fellow Junior Officer. "I think I would like that."

The mech chuckled, "Great, but we might have to stop by the closest wash racks."

"Oh?" She quirked up an optic ridge.

"The red on you stands out very vividly." First Aid pointed at the femmie's chest plate.

"Oh?" Quicksilver looked down for the first time that day. Sure enough there was red paint specks scattered on her front. If and Autobot could blush, she was doing so, making a very soft humming sound. "_Oh..._"

"Come," First Aid said still chuckling as he grasped one of the femmie's hands and led her down way he came.

"Oh dear, I am terribly sorry First Aid," Quicksilver said as she tried to brush off some of the paint.

"Don't be 'Silver." The mech was grinning, somehow, "Its okay."

"But embarrassing," the femmie said, still humming.

"Easily cleaned up." First Aid said, "So, I take it you had and interesting night?"

"..." Quicksilver gave her friend a look that was as close as coming to sharp as she could do without pain. She hesitated and decided that First Air would keep what she said to himself. "As a madder of fact it was." She smiled, sidestepping to the mech's other side to hide the red scuffs from someone passing in the hall. She was after all from the Towers and took pride in being 'presentable.'

First Aid chuckled again and keyed the door control to a room converted to being a cleaning station. Although he was boned with his gesil mates, it was still nice to be able to help a femmie clean up.

As it turned out none of the other Protectabots were in so the two medics went up to the outer wall. They hadn't planned on it truth be told, they had been engrossed in a decision, or rather a debate on what tools were best for closing Energon lines as well as the new, smaller and lighter wilders that Ratchet had been almost clamoring to get. The conversation shifted to interesting cases the two had come across. Not only from here in Iacon but from the regions they came from originally.

"Careful," First Aid said when they had paused to admire their surroundings.

Quicksilver smiled, "It is alright First Aid. I come from the Towers, I know heights." She returned her optics to golden city. It was, in all respects, beautiful. Sweeping curves, angles and towers...

Although she could see and appreciate the beauty of the golden city...it just wasn't like the different and sometime unique styles that each Tower had from another. Where all the different colors blended together _just_ so, it was stunning even to native tower dwellers. Quicksilver thought _that_ was because most natives almost never left their own tower, or section of their tower.

"It is a little hard to believe that the planet use to be golden sometimes." The femmie said coming back to First Aid, who was politely listening to a Minibot technician that was daring taking advantage of not one medic visiting the wall but two. She smiled, knelt and, to the technician's surprise helped First Aid to a rapid once over before the mech deemed the Minibot fully functioning and sent him on his way.

Turning and politely helped the femmie back to her feet, "It's sad," he said and stepped to the mostly translucent upper wall/dome to peer at the grey landscape beyond the Iacon's limits. The short mech turned back partly in surprise when Quicksilver kept holding onto his right hand.

"I hope..." the white and silver colored medic muttered softly placing her free hand on the slightly curved and translucent dome, "I hope that the Prime can revitalize the planet after this retched war."

First Aid nodded in agreement, "I do too." He gave a long, low whistle, making the femmie look over at him, "It's scary to think, to see how Cybertron itself is suffering."

Quicksilver's gaze softened as she clasped both of her fellow medic's hands in hers, "You and your team go out in search and rescue missions."

The white mech looked up and nodded, his inner working rumbling, "Yes..." He stiffened in surprise as Quicksilver tapped her head against his, then he remembered her telling him that some Tower dwellers would do this to their fellows in quite moments.

"I am always inside," The femmie sighed looking down, "Even when I came here it was in fellow Autobot with a transport mode. I am sorry First Aid, I keep forgetting that as bad as it is with the injured that come in, it can be worse out there, and that you much cope."

First Aid's own gaze soften, he shifted his hand so he was holding Quicksilver's.

_Bang!_

What ever was about to be said was forgotten as reflexes kicked in. Quicksilver nearly jumped out of her scant armor at the sound and shape on the other side of the mostly clear dome. First Aid how ever, with real battle field experience didn't jump, but tackled the femmie. He knew all to well that her so called 'armor' was scantly more then a covering to protect inner workings and tools.

Blaster in hand the Protectabot bodily shielded the other medic, not unlike how he had down with protecting a mech on the battle field with open wounds, before he focused on the threat.

The Decepicon was flailing its wings stiffly, trying to get a grasp on the smooth dome and failing as it was sliding down. Small red optics of the creature bot looked through the dome then and it visibly paused as it focused on the two lightly colored Autobots. The red gaze of the small surveillance mech shifted from the red emblems to the metical ones.

"SPY!" Fist Air shouted over his communication lines to both his last acting commander that wasn't Hotspot, to Hotspot as well and to the nearest unit of warriors that were in the wall, waiting to defend Iacon.

First Aid's team was aptly named _Protect_abots, Quicksilver mused. She was fast on her feet, thanks to being so light weight, but even she couldn't have reacted like First Aid had as he had her in his arms and off the wall. Alarmed and rather confused, the femmie none the less latched onto the mech holding her until he'd come down a ways in the wall, well out of side of the oddly shaped Decepticon spy.

It was later that it was explained to Quicksilver, when Prowl was addressing those he chosen, that medics were considered prizes to the Decepticons. They would gladly kidnap a medic with out hesitation, thus why they were always assigned body guards.

* * *

Queen's notes: OMG! I think I have a PLOT now! XDXDXD


	9. Life

**A Medic's Life**

Life.

Such an amazing, wonderful thing it was if you could see the spark.

Just not like _this_.

The orb of energy that was the very life, the essence of who the mech was that was on the repair birth...it was fading. No long so large and pulsating with a rainbow of colors, not unlike the kind you see on a slick of oil on top of water. This spark, _this_ cherished thing was distinctly smaller then it had been when the mech was first brought into medical ward.

"I need another set of hands here!" Quicksilver screamed at the ward in general, so focused she didn't see or know that there was already another two Medics working on the same mech she was. She had a soft chant of: "Come _on_, come _on_..." as she worked.

It was tunnel vision. Time had no meaning as she worked, she had to fix this mech or- Quicksilver risked a glance at the spark but an arm was blocking her view. She gave a wordless cry, who ever it was, was in her way!

"'Silver, it's done." Ratchet's voice, probably it was his white arm.

"No, I still have to-"

The Senor Medic Officer reached over and caught his Junior's right wrist, his other hand reaching around her middle before he just lifted her up. Quicksilver weighed next to nothing in terms of 'normal' mechs, let alone warriors. Ratchet did the equivalent of gritting his teeth at the smaller white and silver femmie screeched as she was taken away from her 'peasant,' unable to see that the poor mech was graying. Two of the medics working on who ever it was had to be dragged away, both of them in this tunnel vision stare of 'I _have_ to fix/save him!'

"Get him to another mech that needs work!" Ratchet bellowed at the helping Prowl. The other Officer had come originally to just check in but had some how got dragged into helping.

Not that Prowl was complaining as he hefted the Medic he was holding, turning away so the dead mech was out of sight and carrying the screaming medic to the nearest wounded. He was just hesitating on putting the mech down when the medic spotted the red form of Ironhide.

The smaller medic tore free and bee-line to the old warrior, dropping down by the bleeding, turn stump that used to be a leg.

Prowl stared a moment. Well that explained Ratchet's words. He turned to see the Chief Medicle Officer was doing this same thing to Quick silver. Forcing the femmie to look at another wounded mech and then it was like the dead one had never been. Quicksilver got to work, calming down before she even started.

Ratchet turned and was back to backing orders over Smokescreen's head as he worked on fixing the white and gray's back.

The tide of wounded at last ebbed and faded. The near frantic running around to get parts, and in a few cases the grizzly task of cannibalizing the dead for more parts, was no more. Just as it started it almost abruptly ended. Those with minor and stabilized wounds that had been ordered to stay outside and not be in the way were hauled back in to be treated as those that had been in a critical state were being monitored in the side wards.

The stress all the medics and their helpers had been under didn't leave, so much as it changed.

Prowl heard it before he saw her.

Quicksilver was sitting off to the side, without being assigned to a ward and thus having something to focus on. She was still on leave technically but Ratchet had sent out a city-call for any and all available medics. That didn't happen often, but those working under him had leaned that when Ratchet bellow you came running. The louder the yell the quicker you were.

But right now, the trauma of seeing mechs die as well as the intensity of the wounds... how had some of them survived getting back let alone the time it took to repair...?

Someone crouched down in front of the vibrating femmie, carefully not touching since Prowl saw the signs of traumatic stress. Though he never thought he'd see it in a medic that had never been close to a battle field. Was it like this for all the medics, not just the combat ones?

Prowl glanced around, a little surprised to see that, yes. It seemed to be true in varying degrees.

Even the pacing and growling Ratchet though he seemed to have the best control of it. His sharp, snapped orders had instant responses as he was taking care of his Junior officers and medics. Giving each something to do that would focused their attention...

Prowl understood, on another level, why Ratchet was the Chief Medical Officer, not just for he skills, but that he was a leader that took care of everyone under his care.

Quicksilver stood up abruptly, "I need to clean up." She said to the main room in general.

Prowl stood and stepped back, his keen optics picking out the gash, "Wait." He said, in a tone that he normally used for giving orders. IT wasn't Ratchet's growl but it worked the same.

Mentioning Ratchet…

The white and red was coming over, as if homing in on the wound. Which, come to think about it wouldn't be that surprising if he was. "What's wrong?"

Quicksilver flashed her optics in a blink, unaware of damage.

Prowl indicated the spot for her.

Ratchet gave a drawn out, long suffering his that what the equivalent of a sigh. "Here." He pointed to the spot directly in front of him. Ratchet waiting for his Junior to do so before kneeling down and inspecting the gash. Grunting he turned her around to look for more damage, "I swear one of these days I'm going to give you a stronger shell."

"My joints can't take anything heavier." Quicksilver said, and seemed to come out of her dazed trance at the old threat. "Sam reason why I have no alternate mode,"

"It means I have to bother with an over haul…" Ratchet growled now, but there was no bite to his words.

"And making a transforming cog," Quicksilver helpfully put it, trying to make it sound like it was far to much trouble for her senor officer. They had said these lines so often all ready that it was a comfort, something familiar to latch onto.

"You don't have a transforming cog?" Prowl asked, his voice, cutting into the play drew the optics of both medics. They blinked at him, as if confused that he would interrupt.

"No." Quicksilver shook her head, "I've never had one."

Prowl, already aware of the femmie's case, so to say, mostly do to the fact that when Ratchet had brought it up (ranted about it really) he had barged into a meeting between himself, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Ironhide and a few other officers. He knew about the block, but never being aloud to transform? True there were some that chose to stay in one form or another, but all created protoforms had to have a transforming cog.

Prowl seemed to become evening calmer, not really 'cold' but close.

Ratchet was glowering at Prowl. Now was NOT the time. "You're alright for now," he said, as he too controlled himself, "Go clean up and come back here after a recharge so I can fix you." Ratchet dismissed his Junior as he stood.

Oblivious to any underlying tones from the lack of energy and resent stress, Quicksilver nodded before doing as told. Leaving medical for the nearest wash-rack.

There wasn't many in the halls but a few did double takes on her. The white and silver femmie smiled and reassured those that asked if she was alright that, yes she was fine she just came from medical and that it was worse then it looked. It was the price of having such a light frame. Quicksilver reached the wash-racks, opening the door and stepping in.

More then one voice promptly _screamed_.

If it were possible, Quicksilver would have went cross eyed in response.

For you see, the sound was nothing like an organic scream. This came from beings far older and more powerful then any, say, humans. The voices ranged in pitch, in fact would classify as female but it was only mechs in the wash racks.

There was a long pause.

"Should I come back?" Quicksilver hesitantly asked, a little dazed again. It wasn't every day that she managed to scare the daylights out of so many mechs that were clearly warriors. Any over time, if she had more Energon in her systems, Quicksilver would had gladly waltzed in and taken her pick of the hansom, not to mention just as _stunned_ warriors to help her clean up.

Hey, who wouldn't want that?

But, at the moment they all just stared awkwardly at each other.


	10. Boom

**A Medic's Life**

_Boom!_

"Primus!"

"Wow!"

"Do it again!" the first voice yelled.

Quicksilver hesitated, leery now and not so sure. Side stepping so she was no long directly in front of the door but just to the side, the medic tapped the pad in the wall. Yes, a pad, for it was far easier to replace then a key system and the owner of this lab never needed to lock his door. He had a vaulted room under it for things that needed that extra bit of safety.

Besides someone, more then likely Ratchet, had put up sings on either side of the main door to the lab. White plates relay, with the glyphs in bold and vivid blue saying 'Enter at your own slagging risk!'

There was a faint chime from inside as well as a pause, and then scuffling around.

The door swished open, another pause and a grey mech poked his head out looking from one side to the other. Not bothered in the least, and well used to the fact that wise mechs didn't stand in front of the door to his lab. In fact if he did find someone standing there he informed them that was a bad idea. "'Silver! Good to-what the slag happened to you?" Wheeljack started before switching subjects, stepping out into the hall and reaching out to the femmie.

"May I please use your wash rack?" Quicksilver asked, "I apparently look like the walking dead."

The taller mech let out a muffled chortle once he saw that there was no real damage and was quick to see the humor. "I would have to agree with you there 'Silver. Did someone jerk when you were doing repairs?" Wheeljack stepped back, motioning to the inside of his lab with one hand and resting a hand on the back of the medic's shoulder when she was in range. Actually when you took in the size difference his hand and guard covered half of the slender femmie's back.

"I...do not really remember," Quicksilver admitted, "There was so many..."

"I wish my transport got in sooner so I could have helped." The grey mech let out a hiss of displeasure, "Ratchet kicked me out before I could walk in the ward," Now he chuckled, "Said all the work was done, aw well. Here, over there through that door."

"Thank you very much for this Wheeljack." Quicksilver said as she started for the indicated door. She had turned around at the more public room after that collective scream for she _really_ didn't want to deal with mechs that would be hovering and demanding if she was alright and be bodily carried back to Medical. More than sometimes warriors acted like full on caretakers, it was annoying.

"There's a solvent on the far right shelf that's in a yellow can," Wheeljack added helpfully, "Really good for getting all the assorted bodily fluids off armor."

The femmie managed a straight face, giving a back handed wave to acknowledge what was said, only smiling once she was in the personal wash rack. She, like a few other Junior offers had noticed here and there that sometimes when the engineering officer had wandered in (or was carried in) to Medical for completely random repairs he was sometimes damp. Having wisely cleaned up before coming so not to overly annoy his friend and overly worry Ratchet's minions.

Wheeljack was one of the few Quicksilver had known form the start when coming to Iacon by name, sight, energy, voice and…smell. Lingering tinges of explosive sometimes clung to the mech before he washed up the first three times. He was also the one senor officer that (somehow) convinced her not to call him 'sir,' partly by saying he wasn't as old as Ratchet. He said that grinning in his own way at the medic at the time whitch triggered on of the two's famous arguments and thus providing much amusement.

All and all though, the mech was a good friend, and sometimes a dignity savor like right now.

Once Quicksilver was as clean as she could get she made a mental note to find out what was in that solvent. Walking back into the main lab- she peeked around the door first, having such little armor (if it could be called armor) the medic had to be extra careful in _this_ lab. "Wheeljack?"

"'Silver!" The head engineer of Iacon perked up, and popped up from behind a heavily armored 'table' that was on its side, "Hurry up, it's safer here!"

One of, if not the best advantage of being so light, the silver and white femmie was an expert darting at high speeds. And dart over she did, hopped over the edge of the table shield and fell into the waiting arms there. Wheeljack pulled the white and silver femmie closer to him, leaning over her and making sure she was protected with his bulk. "Hit it Jazz."

A black and white mech that Quicksilver had never seen before, that was sharing the shelter gave a surprisingly wicked grin at medic and engineer before he compressed a button on a simple handheld device.

_Boom!_

"'Jack my man, I love you." The new mech said, Jazz was what Wheeljack had called him, after a respectable pause before peeking up. "Think ya can make a big old pile o' these for me by, say, before I ship out?" By this time he was standing and helping Wheeljack flip the table up right again as Quicksilver brushed metal shavings off her person that were trying to stick to her.

"I could, with a little help..." Wheeljack glanced over at the medic, "You're off duty right 'Silver?"

Caught like a turbo fox with its pawn in the energon Quicksilver had several rapid thoughts and realized she more or less set herself up for this. "As long as you take my shell into consideration Wheeljack," She looked pointedly at the fresh black splotch on the far wall, "I will be happy to help."

"I'll do the last tricky bits," Weeljack waved the concerns away as he stared to gather things around his lab, "I've been making these little party favors for vons." Dumping his armload on the newly righted table before coming over to the medic, "Pardon me," He said as the older officer grasped Quicksilver's hips.

"'Jack man-" Jazz started, pausing as Wheeljack lift the smiling femmie up with shocking ease.

"It's okay, this isn't the first time I have help Wheeljack." Quicksilver assured as she scooted back, "It's much easier to talk to him from up here."

"Go get ready for your mission Jazz," The engineer added, already showing his unexpected but still well come assistant what to do. Truth of the matter was that whenever one the medics were forcefully ejected out of their domain, didn't matter if it was a trainee, junior officer or Ratchet himself, they tended to migrate over to Wheeljack's domain. "I'll see you before you go, and in the debriefing afterwards. Now, this is what we're going to do 'Silver..."


	11. Party

**A Medic's Life**

Party.

It was one of those impromptu parties that struck up within a few scant minutes and could last anywhere from a half hour to a full evening. Those involved were mostly the medical personal, sometimes a patient or two, the search and rescue teams that were in . Now and then another officer or two would join in, senior or junior, though how Wheeljack knew the instant to show up (when he was in Iacon) no one could find out.

No one complained though, since Wheeljack brought with him enough of his brewed energon and everyone liked it.

Of course seeing a grinning Ratchet when walking into medical had Ironhide jerking to a stop in the door way, since that something that could be a vary dangerous thing at times. But it wasn't that that had the red mech freezing, but that fact that Ratchet was _laughing_ as he and a white and silver femme did the Cybertronian equivalent and mix of a fox trot and tango around the main wing of medical.

"Hey you old slagger!" The chief medical officer called, "Get in here and save the nurses!" Ratchet half ordered as he led the dance with Quicksiver, the two swooshed by and spun over to another side of the room.

Ironhide's optics dimmed and brightened into a flash in a slow 'blink.' He tore his gaze off the two, taking in the rest of the massive room and those there. Ratchet and his partner weren't the only dances, behind them the Protectabot Groove was looking more then placed with himself as he basically charmed a one of the nurses in a twining dance that had hands seemingly on the wrong parts.

To the left Streetwise had fallen over on a berth, clutching his sides and shaking in silent laughter. There were acutely two reasons for his state, one was that Hotspot and First Air were doing a slight more clumsier version of the head medic. The other reason had Ironhide's optic ridges lifting as evidently just before he walked in Firestar, a tall lean femmie, had grabbed Blades and dipped the slightly shorter search and rescue bot in an overly dramadic but still deep kiss. His face mask in her hand and being chucked over her shoulder.

Behind them an open mouthed and gaping Red Alert was attempting to say something, _anything_, one hand out stretched to his femmie friend. To the junor officer's side Inferno was just roaring laugher, his free hand slapped against his thigh with a clang and he used his other arm to support the other nurse against his bigger frame. Her lighter laugh a pleasant counterpart to Inferno's.

The door hit Ironhide in the side, snapping him out of the slight shock and he stepped into medical, "What the slag...?"

Firestar broke the kiss, standing and dragging a limp and dazed (or partly traumatized knowing Firestar) Blades up with her. The femmie's fingers were mercilessly slipped into those cretin spots that she knew combiners had, able to work her slender digits. "Hey Ironhide! Want to share?"

"Nooooo…." Blades squeaked out, his shell shaking and the mech was looking like he didn't know if he should attempt to tear away or surrender.

"Firestar!" Red Alert finally got out.

"What?" the orange and white femmie was grinning near wickedly for a moment, and then pouted when Red Alert 'saved' the twitching aircraft mech. Dragging Blades over to a berth and helping him up where he could recover. "Aw, take away all my fun Red." She paused to back out of the way of a snickering Hotspot and First Aid. Then her blue optics focused on Streetwise.

The security agent rolled over and fell off his berth and out of sight.

"You're as bad as Cromia." Red Alert threw up his arms in exasperation, not seeing Ironhide yet or his senor officer's arched optic ridge. "Oh for Primus' sake Inferno _you're_ even worse."

The dark red fire control mech grinned down at his apparent new friend, making the white and pink femmie hum in the equivalent of a blush.

"It's all good my mech," Groove all but purred, perfectly content in his dance that had slowed. "Right Ratch'?"

"It's good for the spark!" Ratchet avouched, Ironhide deftly avoiding him as the head medic slid to a stop, letting a gasping Quicksilver cling to him. "Hah! Told you I could out dance you."

"Surprised ya' lot down have Blaster or Jazz in 'here." Ironhide shook his head at the general oddness of the younger bots as he pulled himself up on the end of one of the berths.

"They are on assignment." Quicksilver said and the femmie had to pause to use Ironhide's knee for balance as her equilibrium finished sorting itself out. She smiled up at him as she the mech reached over to wrap a large hand over her shoulder, frowning a little at the...sear lack or basic armor.

"Ya alright missy?"

"Oh, yes sir," the medic nodded and gave a wry smile as she looked over at Ratchet who was being his bossy self and prodding and giving Firestar a run for her money. Really, since she was fleeing to hid behind an amused Hotspot.

"Hey don't get me involved!"

"Ya sure?" Ironhide asked, ignoring the scene around them as only a senior officer could.

A white hand reached up to pat his, "Yes, everything is just-"

"I got it!" Wheeljack announced as he flounced in, dragging a small cart behind him and load with energon cubes, his head fins glowing and his optics crinkled at the sides to show his smile.

"-Perfect." Quicksilver smiled, "On moment sir, I'll get you a cube. Streetwise you can come out from under the berth now." She added.

...

That night in the dimmed lighting of Quicksilver's wing, she was far more happy to be back to working then she had expressed. Couldn't go giving Ratchet ideas just like he couldn't give his juniors' ideas. But for right now, with only one mech soundly recharging and working off too much high grade he should have known better, it was quiet. Quicksilver felt more compassion for Wheeljack then Ratchet did.

The sliver and white femmie was sitting at her desk, frowning at her hands. Slowly flexing her digits, curling the fingers and making a loose fist. Then tightening her hands as much as she could, reading the data in her heads up display that scrawled over a corner of her vision.

Strong enough to maneuver parts and lever armor plates, but barely.

Relaxing her fingers, Quicksilver splayed them out on the desk top, still frowning a little. She couldn't help feeling, for the first time in her life both before and after leaving the Towers, Quicksilver felt a bit...useless for a lack of a better tern. Not in her skills, she couldn't fault herself in that since she had been accepted along with First Aid and Hightower to learn from _Ratchet_. It wasn't even her block, though that could render Quicksilver into stasis like someone with an overloaded battle computer or overly heightened senses.

No…it was her shell.

Spending such an amount of time with Firestar, and then later Cromia had brought up the suddenly glaringly obvious differences in the frames of the three femmies. The heavy, thick and expertly balance armor of Cromia, with powerful joints and supports that not only held that weight and an assortment of weapons with enough spring left over to let her run easily. Firestar's own inner frame, and systems as well as heat shielded armor design that let her dive right into the heart of an energon fueled firestorm along with those like Inferno and Hotspot without damage.

For the second time in her life Quicksilver was more than annoyed with her maker, enough so that she felt the first twangs of uncomfortableness from the block. Taking a moment to calm down, she saw and understood another way that old mech had sought to keep his latest creation with him in the tower. To keep her afraid at first, then using her pacifist nature and the block…and now this. 'This' that had been there all along.

How many times had the covering that consisted of herself been torn by thrashing potions, or the occasional clumsy mech?

"Too many." Quicksilver sighed, "How many more could I help...?" She frowned at her hands and felt her converter come to life in her midsection, the cool rush up the torso and down the arms to her hands at Quicksliver's will. She watched first her digits, hands and forearms alter and become silvery and a semi-solid.

The cybertronian quicksilver element, the reason for-

"I always did wonder about your name Quicksilver." Ratchet's voice said quietly to the femmie's right, making her jump in shock for the red and white mech hadn't made a sound to interrupt her thoughts. Not minding her bug-opticed shock since it wasn't the first time Ratchet had seen it in this batch of juniors. He knelt down, one hand turning the chair Quicksilver was sitting in and the other taking one of her hands in his, gently examining the semi-solid stat they were in. "No visible joints...almost an organic look but still metal. Soft metal but metal none the less. Where you made with this?"

"I...yes sir."

Ratchet rumbled softly, about to ask another question but was interrupted by a drunken giggle.

"Aww...wanna help make tah sparklin's." Wheeljack beamed at the two before falling off the berth.

The head medic face-palm and let air out in a sigh, "How we became friends I'll never remember." He paused to watch in fascination and professional interest as Quicksilver reformed her arms properly. "This could be very useful," He murrmered, standing and went to help her put Wheeljack back on the berth.

Then, with no shame he strode back to the desk, the femmie fusing behind him, but he didn't let her back at the desk, instead leaned on it as he studied what was on the display.

"So, finally ready to upgrade?"

Quicksilver felt her optics widen a little as she took in the rare affectionate, and proud look from her senor officer. She looked at her hands, closed them slowly and then back up, "I would Ratchet, sir, I really would."

Ratchet extended and arm, pulling his junior up against his side as he lead her out of the wing, leaving Wheeljack to sleep off his energon, "Come on then my quietest minion, let's talk about a new body for you."

As it turned out, Ratchet had been plotting this for a long time.


End file.
